


Bad Dog, No Biscuit

by Miss_L



Series: Darkness Seeping Out [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Also character death, Bottom!Hannibal, M/M, More like choking gone erotic, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Really non-con this time, So beware of the monsters, Tie, Top!Will, breath play, just to make things clear, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will learns the truth in his own home, and thinks that Hannibal needs to be taught a lesson. It doesn't turn out to be the kind of lesson he teaches at Quantico, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by Daron Norwood (at least the version I know of). Not related to/based on the song itself, only the title ;)

Will wakes up with a jolt from another stag-ridden nightmare, featuring Gareth Jacob Hobbs and Abigail as extras. The hot shower only helps a little to dissipate the dark clouds the visions had left in his mind. He's almost dressed when he hears a knock on the door. He ignores it in favour of finding his glasses, but the guest is insistent.

It's Doctor Lecter, and he's holding a bag full of prepared food. Sent by Jack then. Of course Agent Crawford didn't dare come himself - by all fair standards, this was Will's day off. Graham sighs and asks Hannibal to come in.

The man hasn't been that often to Will's house, but he feels quite at home, so the agent lets him use the kitchen and make coffee whilst he's tending to one of the dogs who had a nasty thorn in her paw the other day. None of the residents like the smell of the ointment, but it seems to help. When he's finished, he lets the dogs out and Hannibal hands him a cup a strong coffee.

The food is already on the plates on the kitchen table, a few field flowers Hannibal must've picked outside as decoration in a glass of water. A very long and detailed description of the dish they're currently eating comes out of the psychiatrist's mouth. As always, Will doesn't understand a word of what his friend is saying, so he tunes out and enjoys the food. 

When Hannibal is finished talking, Will looks up at him, washes a mouthful away with coffee and asks, "Why are you here, Doctor? You didn't drive an hour on your day off just to feed me up, did you?" He's still a little grumpy, but nobody can stay angry on a full belly. Hannibal smiles at him, chews and swallows.

"We'll discuss the reason why I'm here in a few minutes, William. Let's finish our plates first, shall we? Don't forget: breakfast is the building block for the rest of the day." Hannibal smirks a little and scoops a last portion on his fork, tamping it down with his knife - even his eating in gracious - so he doesn't see the slight change in Will's face as he remembers about a gruesome murder on a construction worker three days prior; nor does the doctor notice that his friend nearly drops his fork as his abused mind finally connects the dots.

Agent Graham looks down on what are most definitely the remains of a human liver, and is surprised by how much it doesn't bother him. When Doctor Lecter puts his cutlery slantwise on his plate and finally looks up at his friend - _well, when he says_ friend _... God knows what he_ really _means by that_ \- Will's face is already back to its normal mild and fluffy-confused expression. A smile is playing on his lips, seemingly unperturbed, as he's trying his best to keep the fear, anger and betrayal coiled in his gut. Luckily, Hannibal is too busy enjoying the last bit of his breakfast to notice the heightened level of adrenalin in the air.

Will finishes his own plate - again, extremely surprised at how little effort it takes him to eat a part of a person - and his coffee. Hannibal opens his mouth, no doubt to disclose the reason he came to see Will, but the younger man gets up suddenly and walks around the wooden table towards him. Hannibal's expression is surprised, but there is caution in the corners of his dark irises, and Will forces himself to relax. _Think of fishing boats big enough to take the dogs with,_ he commands himself. He's looming over the psychiatrist-slash-serial killer now, mirroring Hannibal's small smile with his own.

"Doctor Lecter, could you please give me your tie?" The doctor is momentarily taken aback. He doesn't ask, certain that Will has a good reason for this unusual request. He undoes the double Windsor knot, slides the garment off his neck slowly and hands it to the man standing too close for comfort. Too late does he notice the hard set of Will's jaw. Before he can think to react, Agent Graham has stepped behind him and throws the sturdy neck-tie over his head, pulling it taut immediately.

Alarm bells ring all over Hannibal's brain, but Will is standing in the weaver stance behind him, one knee planted in the small of his back, and his hands don't hesitate to cut off the doctor's air supply. The older man hears his chair creak - or is that the blood rushing in his ears? - and he hopes the flimsy thing won't give in lest he'll string himself up falling. He knows that Will knows, but he still tries to reason.

"W... William, hah-please! What... What are you do-hooing?" He sounds pathetic even to himself, but at least Will stops pulling on the make-shift rope for a little while. He might even slacken it a bit. He doesn't. Instead, he steps back a little and bows towards Hannibal's ear - not close enough for the murderous arms to reach him, though.

"Giving you your dues, _Doctor._ Of all people, _you_ should recognize this." There's teasing in his voice, but also sadness. Mostly anger and betrayal, though - he can finally let them out. Hannibal stops trying to reach Will's face and takes a hold of the tie that is cutting into his esophagus. There was something else in Graham's voice, as well, and he'll smell it in a few seconds. Hannibal Lecter smirks.


	2. Chapter 2

The edges of Will's vision are red. Not blood-red, however, rather the colour of a tender piece of beef that had been allowed to lavishly soak in red wine. He looks down at his hands. They have started shaking. Something is wrong. Why can't he just finish the job? Surely, he would be doing the world a favour?

Then he notices his own labored breathing and how tight his jeans have become around his crotch. _Oh..._ He hears Hannibal chuckle - a quiet, dark sound, coming from deep in his chest. Will feels his blood rush to his head; this, however, does nothing to alleviate his arousal. If anything, his embarrassment adds to the lust he is feeling. It's like a great hot blanket, enveloping him, numbing his mind, shutting off all thought processes until all that's left are animal instincts, driving him towards the man in front of him. The man that he should kill, or report - not necessarily in that order.

Hannibal feels the wave of heat emanating from his adversary, can almost taste the pheromones taking over the - no doubt sex-deprived - man's instincts, and decides to make a move. He had not anticipated, however, that so many of Will's base instincts would be of self-preservation and dominance. Before the doctor has had a chance to get up all the way from the chair and try to twist out of the young man's hold, he's sitting on his knees on the floor, the tie once again so tight he's seeing stars, Will's - quite muscled - thighs pressing into his shoulder blades.

It's all Will can do not to grind against the man's neck. He's losing control fast, and that is not a good thing. An even worse thing is that he can't quite bring himself to care about the fact that it's not a good thing to lose control with a cold-blooded murderer in the room. 

Holding the ends of the oh-so-useful garment in one hand, he puts the other on Hannibal's head, threading his fingers through the man's soft straight hair. Doctor Lecter is gagging now, but Will doesn't slack the tie. Instead, he grabs a handful of the older man's hair and tugs at it. Hannibal gasps, then coughs violently. Will stalks around him now, a predator ready to kill, to dismember, to devour his prey. For the first time in a very, very long while, Hannibal feels real, paralyzing fear. Agent Graham drinks in his horrified expression and smiles a toothy wolfish grin. The doctor wonders briefly what kind of a monster he has created.

All thought is perished from his mind as he watches Will's free hand undo his belt and unzip his jeans. The sharp smell of pre-come makes his stomach churn, but Hannibal is too oxygen-deprived to fight. A rather big cock is pushed in his mouth just as he tries to take a deep breath, cutting off the air supply completely. Hannibal feels saliva and pre-come run down his chin. He sputters, tries to clamp his teeth around the unwelcome guest in his mouth, but Will tugs at his make-shift leash and Hannibal is too busy not passing out to regulate the pressure of his jaws.

Will Graham thrusts deeper and faster now. The look of utter despair on Hannibal's reddening face, the wet lush lips on his shaft, the way the man's throat contracts around the tip of his cock with every push - all of that should be enough to make this sexual escapade a very short one. However, what really does it, are the involuntary tears in Doctor Lecter's eyes. Will knows the man is not weeping out of fear or remorse, that it's just a plain old gag-reflex, but the big drops falling down the leathery cheeks undo him completely. He wants to drink those tears, lavish himself in them, drown in the moisture. Submerge himself in the wetness and never resurface again. 

Another thrust, and he is coming, hard, Hannibal's throat convulsing, adding to the pleasure of his white-hot release. For one moment in time, everything is beautiful and distant stars are swaying in front of his tightly shut eyes. When he finally comes round, he's on his knees, no longer holding anything; Hannibal lies unconscious on the floor. His breathing is shallow and labored, but it's there. He looks debauched and small, a little bit of come seeping from between his lips onto the floor. _How gorgeous he is,_ Will thinks as he fastens his jeans and belt, then puts the tie around Doctor Lecter's neck again gently. _Almost a shame to kill him._ His hands no longer shake as he tightens the noose.


End file.
